My Life as the Daughter of an Insane Dark Lord
by Izzaay
Summary: I was Ginny Weasley. My mum is Molly Weasley. My dad was Arthur Weasley. My dad is Voldie. I am Ginevra Riddle. Voldie's best mate is Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy is a wanker. Lucius Malfoy's son is also a wanker. They are a pair of wankers. I hate them.


**A/N: **For those on my author alert, no, I have not abandoned the other two stories - I am currently working on the Dark Lady chapter two. This is a whole new idea, please have a look and enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Why do we bother with these things? Universal Disclaimer : )

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**My Life as the Daughter of an Insane Dark Lord**

By Izzaay

_Chapter 1

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_

"Mum?" I asked, looking at the passenger seat in front of me, waiting for a response from in that vicinity.

"Yes, Ginny dearest. What is it?" Mum's soothing voice replied.

"You-Know-Who's back, for real, isn't he?" I asked quietly. I had not been in the hospital wing with my family by Harry's side; I had been equally as surprised as most of the other students when Dumbledore announced the return of the man I had read so much about and fallen in love with his teenage self.

"Yes, darling," Mum said sadly. "He is back. Hopefully for the last time."

I sniffed loudly. It was a nervous habit had; I always did it when I was upset or scared. Ron, who was seated on my right in dad's enchanted Ford Anglia, noticed this.

"Oh Gin, it's alright," he said, pulling me into a tight hug. "You've got six wonderful brothers looking out for you." Yes, he was right. My brothers all loved me very much and I knew that. I also knew that they wouldn't let anything happen to me. But that still didn't stop me from worrying.

"Yeah Gin," Fred nodded. He was seated on the other side of Ron. "We won't let him lay a finger on you."

"'Cause if he does," George added, "He'd better have a death wish." He grimaced.

"No, scratch that," Fred said. "Heck, he'd better have a death wish today. Who knows when Harry will finish him? Blimey, he's amazing, that kid."

I gave him a small smile. "Yes, you're right," I murmured in agreement. "You're always right, dear brother of mine."

"I know," he grinned.

"Well, guys, here we are!" Dad said, turning into the driveway.

I looked through the window. There, standing in all its splendor and glory, was the Burrow; the house I had lived in my whole life. My worrying about You-Know-Who ceased immediately. I always felt safe here.

To me, the annual car trip between King's Cross and the Burrow was the best time to worry. I could worry my heart out, and then come home and everything would be okay. I had done that in my first year too, after the incident with Riddle.

As Dad's foot hit the brake, I opened the door and jumped out of the car and onto the gravel, breathing in the fresh air. The car was so stuffy, even though it had been tampered with magic before.

I was followed by Ron, who hit his head on the ceiling and fell onto the gravel face first, very unceremoniously. He swore colorfully. I giggled.

"That's what you get for being tall, my not so Ickle-Ronnikins," Fred said, stepping out of the car gracefully, with George doing the same on the other side. The twins, Bill and I were the shorter ones.

Ron growled. I laughed

"Oh, looks like my little baby brother's suffering grumpitis," George cooed. I laughed even harder.

"Gin!" Ron mock cried. "I made you feel better in the car! Doesn't that count for anything?!"

"Nope, sorry, Ronnie," I shook my head.

"Aw. Thanks, Gin. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"No problem. Come on, let's go inside," I said, running towards the door. The guys followed.

"I've done some afternoon tea for you; you must be famished," Mum said gesturing towards a platter of biscuits, cakes and fruit. Next to the plate were four glasses of iced lemon tea, which I was grateful for. It was rather warm outside.

Sitting down, I wolfed down some fruit, after having decided in January to be a health food freak. I waited for the others to finish satisfying their eternally large appetites, so that we could commence our traditional lemon tea bubble blowing contest.

As I watched their digestion rates slow down, by not that much, mind you, I asked, "You guys done?"

Ron grunted the affirmative, his mouth still stuffed.

"Ee-o" Fred and George both made an attempt to say 'Ditto' with their mouths filled. I groaned in disgust. We held our cups up, placing the straws into our mouths.

George cast a charm that would allow the bubbles to rise out of the cups, so that they would form a neat line, making it easier to identify the winner.

Using my fingers, I counted down from three. After all, I didn't really want to be disadvantaged by actually counting out loud. As I approached zero, I pulled my fist back to my side, so that I could concentrate on more important things, such as making the longest line of bubbles in one minute.

I blew into the straw until I was red and only then did I take a small breath through my nose, before I made myself resemble a tomato again. Looking up at the bubble towers, I found that I was, as per usual, coming last, with Ron in the lead.

George's wand suddenly started singing some muggle song called 'Toxic', indicating the end of our minute. We simultaneously removed our mouths from the straws and looked up. In the last second, Fred had beat Ron by one bubble.

Ron groaned. "You suck," he complained, sticking his tongue out.

"Immature Ickle-Ronnikins is feeling jealous. Oh dear," George said in mock concern, his head shaking in this right hand.

Fred grinned and bowed. "Oh yeah! I win, once again! Some day you will all bow down before me, the King of Blowing! Oh no, that came out wrong." He shook his head.

Ron, George and I sniggered.

"Well, either way!" Fred said indignantly. "I beat you all at bubble blowing. So suck -no pun intended- on that!"

He burst into song.

"We are the champions - my friends -

'And we'll keep on fighting - to the end -

'We are the champions -

'We are the champions,

'No time for losers,

''Cause we are the champions - of the-" _KNOCK!_

I had been about to cover my ears with my hands, as to avoid having to hear Fred's high note, seeing as he wasn't exactly the greatest singer ever, but that proved to be unnecessary. The last word had been muted by a knock at the door. I made a mental note to send the knocker flowers later.

"I'll get it!" I said, although everyone had been waiting for me to open the door anyway. I was, after all, not called the family 'People Person' for no reason.

I pulled open the door, expecting some sort of charity collector to be standing there with his tin for the few Knuts he would collect. The man I saw, however, was definitely not a charity collector. I instantly decided against the idea of sending this guy flowers.

My mouth literally dropped open. Standing in front of me was none other than the very half-person I had been worrying about in the car earlier. His skin was pale, with a bald head and slits for eyes and a nose. His eyes were blood red, contrasting very well with his skin. He wore long black robes.

"My dear Ginevra," he hissed. "Most wouldn't stand in the doorway facing Lord Voldemort himself with their mouths open, drooling over my shoes. They would have their wands out already or at least make some noise. But then again, you aren't most, are you?" He touched her cheek with one of his long skinny fingers that radiated no warmth at all.

Thinking of my family inside, I pulled out my wand, and said with a spark of courage I didn't even know I had, "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be partying with your disciples, seeing as it has been what," I checked the muggle watch Dad had given to me, "less than a week since you rose from the dead? And by the way, you do look as though you just rose from the dead. Maybe you should try some concealer for those lines."

My brothers must have sensed that something was wrong, seeing as I usually did kindly yet quickly send the charity collector to the neighbor's house. They walked into the small living area, and stopped as they saw their baby sister talking to the most feared being of the century.

Ron swore colorfully again. Fred did the same, only in Swedish. George, being the ever polite gentleman, said, "Mum, we have a guest."

The three of them had their wands out aiming them at his chest. Molly stumbled into the living area and hastily straightened her robes. When she caught sight of the visitor, she screamed and quickly pulled her wand out.

"You-Know-Who… can't be…"she stuttered. "How… GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" she finally screamed, her face turning red, her wand still at his face.

"Weasley, if you are really that daft to think I came here to attack you, I am sorry to say that you would have already died two minutes ago. However, seeing as you are still walking and talking, I believe I am right to say that I am not here to attack anyone," You-Know-Who reasoned.

I discreetly shuddered. The monster was crazier than I gave him credit for. Turns out he was also bipolar.

"Then what do you want?!" Mum shrieked, trembling.

"I have come to collect my -"

But what he had come to collect we didn't hear for Dad chose just that moment to barge through the door.

"Why, holy spare sock of Merlin!" he cried, noticing the visitor. He promptly transferred the trunks, which he had been meaning to levitate to our rooms, onto the floor and directed his wand to You-Know-Who's assets.

It looked as though we had most of him covered.

"Weasley senior," he addressed Dad. "You lot are rather, untrusting, aren't you?" he asked, looking from the tip of Dad's wand to where it was aimed. "You won't be able to attack me. I've made sure of that, thank you very much."

"You better pray we don't," Ron muttered.

"Moving on," he continued, his attention focused predominantly on Mum again, "I have come to collect my daughter, Ginevra."

I choked. Once I had gained full control over my body again, I looked up.

"I - _your _daughter - uh - _my_ Ginny?" Mum started stuttering again.

"_Your_ daughter? _Your _daughter is Ginny? I don't think so," Dad said incredulously.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" You-Know-Who hissed, raising what would be an eyebrow if he wasn't so bald.

"What do you mean _prove_?" George enquired. "Look at her. Weasley red hair, Weasley freckles, Weasley attitude… She's a Weasley!"

"My turn," he spoke quietly, yet everyone could hear every single word he was saying nice and clear. "Weasley hair? Not quite. Notice how her hair is darker than yours and dead straight too. Now, Weasley freckles? Not exactly. She, unlike you lot," he pointed to the boys and dad, "has freckles only on her nose like her mother, whereas you lot have them on ever single nook and cranny of your skin. And as for the attitude, she's grown up around you lot. Of course her attitude would be similar to yours. I therefore rest my case." He bowed his head slightly.

"I'm still not buying it," I said stubbornly. No way in the world was I a descendant of this monster.

He sighed. '_Identicus Revelio,_" he muttered. He twirled his wand in a circular motion around my head, and a scroll of parchment shot out of his wand, like a champagne cork. Ron picked it up and read it.

"Ginevra Eva Demetra _Riddle_?" Ron said the last word with both his eyebrows raised. He looked up at me. I was shocked, undoubtedly, yet I still managed to nod in response, encouraging him to continue.

"Daughter of Molly Evangeline Prewett and Tom Marvolo Riddle. Born 11 August 1981, at the Burrow."

Ron looked up again and dropped the parchment. I felt my stomach drop. A million things were going through my head at once, and it was rather dizzying.

"MOLLY EVANGELINE PREWETT!" Dad roared. "Is there something you need to tell me?!"

For the first time in my life, Mum actually looked scared, and backed away from Dad. I had never seen him lose control like this before. I felt sorry for her. It looked as though there were a few firsts today.

Mum was about to open her mouth to retort, when You-Know-Who raised his hand slightly to stop her from talking.

"Molly is not at fault here," he said, if that's what you could call it, quietly. "I raped her," he shrugged indifferently. "I am sure you remember the attack on the Order of the Phoenix in October 1980?"

Mum nodded slowly, her eyes growing wide. "We always thought she was premature," she whispered hoarsely. _So that was why they were so overprotective of me_, I realized.

"Well she wasn't," You-Know-Who said. I thought he was being rather insensitive at a moment like this. "And now I would like my only relation back. You have so many others," he pointed at Fred, George and Ron, "so why not share?"

"No way," Mum hissed dangerously. Dad was no longer saying anything, probably because I was not his daughter any more. He was clearly disappointed that he was not the one to break the Weasley curse.

"Yes, you will," he said in a much lighter tone, about as conversational as a legendary Dark Lord could get. "Because if you don't," his tone darkened, "you might find yourself on the business end of my wand. So it's either my daughter or your sanity."

"Well of course it's my sanity!" Mum shouted. "I don't know about you, but I would never, ever abandon my children."

"Mum!" I protested. I was not about to have her sacrificing herself for me. Merlin, this Gryffindor courage was annoying. "I'm his daughter remember? He would hurt his own flesh and blood, _would you_?" I asked the last part hesitantly, turning towards the mentioned half-man.

"Of course not!" he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I never had a loving family, or anyone to love, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable of it. That old fool Dumbledore has a theory about me not being able to love. That's absolute rubbish. I've never had anything to love, so how would he know? But now, you're denying me my own daughter. You're preventing me from what could be my only chance of love, you are aware of that, right?"

He seemed to have done it. Mum had always been emotional when it came to love. Tears were already falling down her cheeks, but she didn't notice.

"You're right," she sniffed. "I have been terribly selfish. Please do forgive me. I will allow you to take Ginny, as long as she consents," she turned to me. I nodded, "but please promise me one thing; that we will always be able to see her. We are her family too."

You-Know-Who nodded. "That can be arranged," he said. I could almost hear joy in his voice, but I decided that was impossible. "I would like to take her today. _Accio_ all Ginevra's belongings," he waved his wand in a fluid motion.

As my belongings piled at his feet, he shrank them and placed them into his robe pocket. Mum was still sobbing uncontrollably. Fred, George, Ron and Dad were comforting her, but were glaring daggers at him at the same time.

"Please," Mum croaked. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you will not allow for her to be hurt," she pleaded. He did as he was told.

"Remember that this does not indicate any change of feelings towards your family," he hissed in his famous cold voice. "I am, and always will be Lord Voldemort. It is time for us to go. You may say your farewells, Ginevra."

I looked up at him and nodded slightly fearfully. I gave my brothers and Dad a hug, but to Mum I gave the longest one. She told me to be safe and to remember that I was always her little angel. She placed a kiss on my forehead, before I returned to You-Know-Who's side again.

"Come along," he said, and left through the door into the garden. I looked back at my (old, I reminded myself) family, and followed him.

He took my arm and we Apparated away, me trusting him and him leading me to a whole new chapter of my life.

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**Notes:**

- "grumpitis" : Officially became a word when my friend Gemma and I decided that we needed a word to describe my sisters' pms-like tendancies. It couldn't actually have been pms, seeing as she was only seven. Nuff said.

- "that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside" : Quoted from Mr Kyle, my form tutor. It appeared in the Chronicle too.

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**A/N:** How was that? Please review it - constructive criticism loved just as much as positive feedback, choc-chip cookies and Draco. Speaking of which, he will be an important character later in the story. Just don't give me bull, ie 'this story sucks donkey balls you're the crappiest writer ever, anon' without reason. But if you _do_ want to find out, just press that little 'Go' button!

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it!

- Izzy


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